


Soulbound

by cheddarbug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Possible Slow burn, Reincarnation, Romance, Soulmates, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheddarbug/pseuds/cheddarbug
Summary: A rebel god who believes has lost absolutely everything finds the one thing he never thought he would see again as a hole opened within the sky.Maeva Lavellan has always been different, always feeling as though there was something she had forgotten. Her dreams continue to haunt her, telling her a story that the Dalish seemed to have forgotten, but never quite sticking around after she wakes. Now she is being proclaimed as some sort of Herald of Andraste, the only hope Thedas has to close the rip in the Veil and set things right again.If only she could shake the feeling that she knows this apostate elf from somewhere...





	Soulbound

**Author's Note:**

> Did a re-work of the chapter, most of it is the same save the last scene (which has had major improvement)
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta Lydia for helping me to see the glaring mistakes and ways to improve upon certain scenes!!!

Night fell upon the lush landscape, swallowing the last of the warm rays of sunlight and stealing away the vibrant colors of the day. Tall trees that once provided shade from the sun’s rays now cast ominous shadows of velvety darkness, their canopies blotting out the twinkling of stars in the sky. The bright, full moon overhead barely filtered through the thick of trees, casting fantastical patterns on the ground that changed with each passing breeze. All was still and silent except for the lone figure that ran quietly through the trees, using the scarce moonlight to guide her upon her path.

The hooded figure was determined and focused, paying no heed to the creatures of the night that stalked her in the shadows. The elf had no fear of them so long as her bow was strung upon her back and her quiver full. Any that dare attack her on her moonlit journey would only delay her on her mission and frustrate her in the endeavor.

She arrived to her destination with time to spare. The clearing in the middle of the forest formed a nearly perfect circle and was filled with vibrant moonflowers whose wide, white petals opened in the presence of the moon, their sweet scents wafting through the breeze. The elf, far from any road or prying eyes, pushed the hood from her head, revealing a shock of loose, ginger curls and a young face spattered with freckles and marked with the thick lines of her vallaslin. Her bright, green eyes scoured the clearing as she searched for any sign that she might have been followed, though she needn’t bother; she was never followed.

The elf waited in the moonlight, frosting the ground around her with her magic to give the fantastical landscape a more magical feel, if it  could even be possible. Though her hands were distracted with her abilities, her sharp, pointed ears were ever alert to the slightest change in the nighttime sounds that surrounded the area. A snap of a twig a few paces off in the shadows to her left and her bow was drawn and carefully aimed at the figure so well hidden, it was a miracle she had spotted him.

From the darkness came another elf. He was slightly taller and lean with a long staff in his hands and a foci sitting atop it. A crown of leather and bones with the small skull of an animal adorned his brow and lead to thick, auburn dreadlocks that were pulled back along the top of his head, giving the elf a dangerous, roguish, beastial look. Dark, stormy eyes pierced through her being as a small smiled played upon his full lips.

“Be still, Emmaera. It is only I,” the elvhen stated, approaching her slowly and cautiously, knowing full well she wouldn’t lower her bow until he said one word. “ _Anaris_.”

Emmaera lowered her weapon, her face softening in the moonlight, and allowed him to approach her. His fingers reached out, trailing along the green lines of her vallaslin, a look of sadness etched upon his strong features. Her own hands reached up, confidently placing them upon his, and leaned her cheek into his touch. “ _Ma’ vhen’an,_ ” she sighed, hoping her words of endearment would quell the worry upon his face.

“Did you learn anything?” he asked, the sadness and longing not quite leaving those stormy blue eyes as he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow.

“They may have found another Titan. June has been sending slaves to the mines in the south. Some of the reports claim that tremors shake the region and many have been lost to tunnel collapses,” she replied. “And Andruil wishes to host another hunt.”

The elvhen’s face hardened, his eyes growing cold as he listened to her report and his mouth set into a firm line. He lifted his hand to his cleft chin, long fingers trailing at the edge of his jawline as he mulled over the information. “It is becoming too dangerous. If they have indeed discovered another Titan, I fear what may become of their power. I do not wish for you to return to your post, you have done well, _vhen’an._ ”

“And who will bring you reports like these? Just who of your agents has the same access I do? Solas-” she reached for him, her eyes burning into his with a fierce determination. “You need me to stay where I am, at least until we know for sure that they do, in fact, have a Titan.”

“I do not wish to argue this with you, Emmaera. With each passing day their power grows. Even Mythal has begun to fear their capabilities. I would prefer you not to be in the middle of this if I can help it.”

“We fight for you, for your cause, Fen’Harel. We fight for our freedom. Do not take from me that which you wish to give,” she said sternly. He looked upon her in surprise; she never failed to surprise him, and his eyes softened as her point was made, replaced with a despairing look of sorrow. “Oh do not look at me so! I have been successful thus far, my Dread Wolf. Just a little longer-”

“And if they catch you? You are capable with your bow and skilled with your magic, but you are hardly skilled enough to fight even one of the Evanuris and come out alive,” he reminded her.

“They lack something I have, _ma’ vhen’an._ Do you think they could match me in my skill of cunning?” she smirked. “For years I have served under June without tipping him or his siblings of my ability to read, thanks to you. We can ill afford to allow them to find and harvest the power from this Titan.”

He considered this, standing stoically under the cover of shadows before reaching out to her and drawing her close to his being. “You are a stubborn one.”

“One of the many qualities I am sure you love about me.”

“Indeed.”

Emmaera looked up at him, standing upon her tiptoes and brushing her lips to his in a gentle kiss, one he returned gladly. Despite her protests to remain a slave to June and serve the rebellion lead by the infamous Fen’Harel, she truly wished to give in to his demands and stay by his side.

He had come to her on a night such as this when she prayed for freedom from the service of June. She longed to traverse the world in search of knowledge and understanding, both of which were beyond the limited imagination of slaves, and it intrigued the trickster god. Emmaera was a dedicated, hard working slave, a trait that was enhanced tenfold for the cause made known to her by the Dread Wolf. Fen’Harel offered to share in his wisdom and knowledge, for a price. He needed agents that worked closely with the Creators, to watch their movements and keep track of their endeavors as he rallied a rebellion to free the People from their oppressive rule. In exchange for bestowing her this freedom, he asked her to remain under June’s service and report to him everything she had learned on the nights he shared his wisdom.

As it were, Emmaera was a naturally cunning woman with a fierce determination that rivaled that of his own. He came to enjoy his visits with the elvhen, answering her every question and picking apart her inquisitive mind. She was quick at learning too, picking up on intricate magic that most slaves were unable to understand, though her power was significantly weaker than that of most elvhen. It never stopped her from trying and pushing herself from becoming more than she was. It was a beautiful thing, watching this slave blossom into that of a skilled rogue whose wits matched his own.

Emmaera had also come to love this new lifestyle, this dangerous change of pace from being the obedient slave that lived the same life every day to that of a cunning spy that had to watch her every step, though she feared it equally. To be caught would mean death at the hands of her master, or being sold to Andruil. It was a dance, and she had learned well enough to excel at it. It helped that after years of service to June, she had risen high enough to have unadulterated access to his things, including reports. Considering that she was a slave, it never would have occurred to him to hide such documents from her gaze, thus benefiting the rebellion greatly. Fen’Harel, or Solas as she preferred, had spent countless nights patiently teaching her to read and understand, granting her the knowledge she so desperately had prayed for while furthering his own agenda. The elvhen was an added bonus as far as she was concerned. He was young, determined, charismatic and incredibly charming. Though she told herself not to grow too attached to the god, she couldn’t help but fall for him and his seemingly infinite wisdom and desire to free the People.

Thus they fell in love.

It wasn’t an easy romance by any means. She loved him dearly, though they both dared not show their affection lest it be used against them and the rebellion. If those of the People discovered their secret, tales would flow from their mouths like a trickling stream that would soon turn into a coursing river that would inevitably reach the Creators ears. It was dangerous, yet thrilling to hide out in shadows exchanging passionate kisses when given the chance. There were often weeks that they would not see or speak to each other only to reunite in ardent jubilation. Hard as it may be to love the god of rebellion, Emmaera did so gladly and without reservation, believing in his cause and hoping that one day they may walk side by side without fear of the consequences.

His fingers once again reached up and traced the mark of her possession. How he longed to remove those cursed lines that bound her to that of one of the self-proclaimed gods. If only she would grant him that, to join his ranks at his side with her bow drawn towards that of her former master, but she longed to continue playing this game, so he had to endure.

“I will remove these one day,” he informed her, gently caressing the slightly raised surface of the blood writing.

“And on that day I will be glad to allow you to do so, but it has not yet come. As much as I wish to stay, I am to help prepare the weapons for the hunt,” she whispered against his lips.

“Just a moment more,” he pleaded, cupping her face with his hands.

“If I were to grant you a moment, _vhen’an,_ you would proceed to make this an all night affair.” She grinned up at him, flashing her eyes defiantly before pulling away from his warm embrace. He met her with a wolfish grin, pulling her by the arm for one last, passionate kiss before letting her go.

“ _Dar’eth Shiral, ma’ lath,_ ” he said to her.

“ _Dar’eth Shiral, arasha,_ ” was her reply as she watched him fade away into the darkness.

***

The next day was a bustle of activity within June’s personal workshop. His most skilled slaves worked tirelessly sanding and bending the bows and sharpening the pointed heads of arrows to provide for his sister’s grand hunt. Emmaera despised this part of her job, knowingly aiding the Creators in their destruction of her own people, but she could not afford to not put out her best work when it was expected of her. Begrudgingly, she set up her own work area and began to carefully craft the weapons that would end the lives of several slaves, all in the name of sacrifice to please a mad goddess.

June watched the progress, offering aid to those that struggled with the work and using his presence to keep up the vigorous pace. Though he wasn’t inherently cruel to his slaves, unlike his sister, he was intimidating and powerful enough that none dare step a toe out of line. It was well known that while he wouldn’t bother dirtying his hands with the blood of his own, he had no problem will selling or trading his stock with Andruil as punishment should they fail him. No one wished to belong to that goddess, no one with sense anyway, so they always put forth their very best with results that kept arrows from their heads.

“Ah, dearest brother! There you are,” Sylaise, one of June’s sisters, called out as she entered the shop. The Evanuris was wearing tight black breeches coupled with a form-fitting top with sleeves that extended down her elegant arms to points upon her hands. A dark cowl flowed from her shoulders, fluttering about her with her powerful magic. Her blonde hair was slicked into an elaborate updo with crystals and rare gems adorning the golden strands in a brilliant display of wealth. A silver circlet with a single, citrine gem sat elegantly upon her pale brow, complimenting her bright, amber eyes.

“To what do I owe this visit, Sylaise?” June replied, his gaze never leaving his work.  Emmaera cautiously watched, her clever eyes darting between the two. Sylaise was examining the other slaves, her cold stare narrowing at each one. For a brief moment, her eyes locked with Emmaera’s, but the slave was quickly able to return her gaze to her work before the elvhen could raise a brow. Her visit wasn’t entirely unusual as Sylaise usually did make quite a few visits to her brother’s home, but for her to drop by so unexpectedly and in such a suspicious mood meant that something had happened. Rarely did the siblings ever get along, save Falon’Din and Dirthamen, and it seemed that since June’s possible discovery of the Titan, that tension and suspicion between them all had only continued to grow.

“I wish to speak to you privately,” she said, her eyes hardening and sending daggers through the god’s back.

“You fear speaking in front of the slaves? They remain loyal to me,” he waved her off, not at all concerned at her displeasing look.

“Perhaps they are, or perhaps they are not. Come, I do not have all day to argue with you. Andruil sent me personally,” the elvhen woman stated, walking towards the back room across from where Emmaera sat. June seemed to hear her words this time, and the look of mild curiosity let the spy know that she needed to hear what was exchanged between the two of them.

She waited patiently until they had closed the door before making her way to the table that held the tools. It was close enough that it wouldn’t appear odd that she would go there, but not quite close enough that she could hear the hushed tones. The other slaves were busy, their eyes fixated on their projects before them with a single-mindedness to finish what they were doing rather than pay attention to what she was up to, so she inched closer to the door, carefully leaning against the wall. She held up a broken tool and began to toy with it so that if anyone happened to look up and see her, they would assume she was fixing it rather than listening to the conversation being held within the room behind her.

“You are sure?” June’s voice seemed angry, though not quite convinced at whatever his sister had just informed him. Emmaera cursed herself for taking so long, but she hoped after a few minutes she would be able to discern what was being discussed.

“I discovered _two_ within my own household, brother. Andruil believes she had seven, though I am not quite sure I agree he would convince that many of her servants to his cause,” Sylaise replied. “I have not yet talked with the others, but it is quite possible that you have spies among your slaves.”

“So this is why she is hosting another of her hunts. A message to our rebellious friend?” the god of craft asked.

“To remind him that his cause is futile against _us_ , even with Mother on his side,” she agreed. “I am sure if you had cause to question your slaves, you would find _at least_ one in your very household that would betray you to Fen’Harel.”

Emmaera’s heart pounded in her chest and threatened to send her into a panic. She was the only one of June’s personal slaves that sought information to use against him, though there were others that rarely came in contact with the god in the lower ranks. She knew that he would start there, weeding out her friends and selling them to the huntress to provide a large quarry of prey for her to track. How had they been discovered? As far as she was concerned, she was the only agent brave enough to read the reports and continue to work as closely with her target as she did before being recruited into the rebellion.

She had to inform Solas to pull his agents back and recruit new stock if he wished to continue to keep track of the Creator’s intentions. In her hurry to retreat back to her table and collect her bearings before the two powerful beings left the room, she dropped the tool she had been pretending to fix. It clattered to the ground, an unsurprising noise to the rest of the slaves working so that none of them raised even an eye at her, but with everything she had just heard, it was enough to nearly make her jump out of her skin. She lowered her head and began to make her way back to her work station when her entire body froze in place.

Ice ran through her veins as the door behind her creaked open and the two Evanuris within stepped out. Her own magic wasn’t enough to even try to falter the powerful spell that held her, and she had no time to erase the panic on her face before Sylaise’s own was before her.

“Brother, I do believe I have already found one.”

***

Several days had passed since Solas had last seen Emmaera. This wasn’t unusual, but an impending sense of dread filled him as fewer and fewer of his agents reported back. He trusted that all was well with her, believing in her abilities to read through any transactions exchanged between those he sought to bring low, but that didn’t keep him from worrying that she would one day be caught in the act.

His thoughts were interrupted by the fluttering of wings as an owl flew through the tall, glittering window of his hold, shifting its form into that of a tall, lithe Evanuris woman.

“ _An’daran Atish’an,_ Andruil,” he greeted her with a slight nod of his head, surprised that she would come all this way.

“ _Mar enaste lan em lath'in'iseth,_ ” came her sickly sweet reply as she crossed the room and held out her hand so that he may kiss it. He did so with all the malice he could muster, hoping that she could feel it coming off him in waves. It was the way of things between them. Friends, such as they were, that were equally enemies depending on the day. Given the animosity of her reply before, today was a day to tread carefully around the huntress.

“To what do I owe this visit, _my friend_ ,” he asked as he dropped her hand in favor of holding his behind his back.

“Is it so strange for old friends to visit each other within their holds?” Andruil smiled, leaning her long body against a nearby table with several of his paintings scattered about. “Honestly, Fen’Harel, I have been worried about you. It has been so long since you last attacked my siblings and I that I wondered if perhaps you have finally given up in your quest to free the People.”

“I have not, though I appreciate the thoughtfulness you have shown by your consideration of my wellbeing.”

Her lips curled into a meaningful smile that implied she was here for far more than just her concern by his lack of action against her. The gods did not just drop by for simple visits. There was a game being played in this moment, she had only but to set the board. She did so first by looking down at his paintings, picking one of them up and holding it before her face as she studied it. It was one of his most recent creations, one that he had intended on dedicating to Emmaera the day she finally allowed him to remove her vallaslin.

“How interesting, Fen’Harel. Why ever would a dread wolf chase a simple fox?” she asked, her dark eyebrows knitting together.

“There could be several interpretations. It is best to allow those who look upon the art to grasp at its meaning, if there is to be meaning at all,” he replied.

“If you think that I am the fox and you will eventually overpower me, I can put your mind at ease,” she scoffed, snapping her fingers and setting the canvas ablaze with her flame. Solas stood stoically, watching as it burned with cold eyes before turning his attention back at the wretch holding it.

“Indeed,” he said coldly. “That is certainly _one_ interpretation. Perhaps had you not burned the piece, you could have come up with several more by looking at all the other elements-”

“I do not need to see the other elements at play to know it was a mockery,” she shot at him, flicking the canvas to the stony floor and allowing it to continue to burn.

“Be that as it may, I doubt you came all this way to voice your concerns and burn my paintings, Andruil.”

The elvhen grinned widely, almost as if she had just forgotten the conversation before, turning her pointed features to her friend and tilting her head to the side to allow her fingers to trail along the elaborate halla headpiece she wore. “I have come to invite you to my next hunt.”

Solas’ gaze hardened, fists clenching at his sides as he flexed his jaw. He longed to use his force magic to slam her into a wall for such a blatant display of disregard to his stance on the matter, but controlled himself. It would do no good to fight her here.

“And what, do tell, makes you think I would attend one of your infamous hunts?” he asked, his voice holding an edge as his anger boiled within him. She was winning this game, much to his displeasure, and she was enjoying this moment of toying with the Lord of Tricks.

“Naturally I knew you would refuse, but I believe I have an offer that might satisfy your demands,” she said, looking down at her fingers. “You love the People, yes? Of course I love the People as well, otherwise I never would have bestowed my gifts upon them, but Mother believes in compromise.”

“What’s your point?” he demanded.

“Patience, Fen’Harel. My compromise is this. Stop this little rebellious streak of yours, and I will allow you the opportunity to save some of the slaves intended for sacrifice in my hunts. If you wish, we could use my hunt tomorrow as a practice run, a test if you will,” she offered him, her glittering hazel eyes watching for his reaction.

He wondered at her intentions with this act of good faith, this compromise. It was clearly not ideal on his behalf as he would be forced to choose which slaves to save, which lives were more important to him. At the same time, saving these slaves, however few they may be, would add to his own ranks. The Creators were not stupid enough to believe that he would lay down his cause in favor of saving a few precious people when the great many were in danger from their growing power, so why make this offer? His only conclusion was that this was some sort of trap, but to what end, Solas honestly couldn’t say.

“A test? You would allow me to save those you intend to kill for sport? What is the catch?” he dared ask, knowing she very well may not bother to give him a direct answer.

“Oh, there are rules of course. Rules that I will explain tomorrow should you bother to come at all. You have tonight to think it over,” she shrugged, lifting herself from the table and sauntering towards the exit.

“And if I do not come?”

Andruil turned to him, a wicked grin upon her face. “Then I suppose that their death will be on your hands,” she laughed, the cackling, obnoxious sound echoing through the chamber even long after she had gone, leaving the lone wolf to ponder his next course of action.

***

Sunlight shone brightly over the dense, lush greenery of the Arlathan Forest. Birds sang sweet songs, flitting carelessly as dozens of nobility conversed amongst each other in the shade of the great trees. Halla grazed nearby, some of them tacked in functional saddles to serve as mounts in the hunt that would be taking place very soon while slaves served the guests cheese and wine.

The beautiful day seemed almost a mockery due to the horrendous act that would take place through the course of it. Solas’ eyes glanced over all the slaves, never lingering too long on any one of them should the gods find his agents. To his surprise, and great relief, he did not count many of his agents among those tending the halla or serving the guests. They were not needed here with him watching the events, and he would prefer them as far from these proceedings as possible.

“I am surprised to see you here, Dread Wolf,” a voice said from behind him. Solas turned, his stern face softening as a seemingly ageless woman with bright, golden eyes approached him.

“I am surprised you are here as well, old friend,” he bowed respectfully to her before giving her a warm embrace.

Mythal was dressed like a warrior queen. Roguish leathers formed about her body as a second skin, accented with silver studs and accompanied by silverite gauntlets. Upon her head were four gently curved horns covered with silvery hair, and upon her brow lay a sharp bronze crown. She looked as dangerous as she did regal, though her face showed a motherly love that none could deny.

“I was told that you were offered compromise. I wanted to see if you would take my daughter up on it,” Mythal replied, falling in step with Solas.

“Not that I consider it much of a compromise. The People are still in danger so long as the Evanuris continue to gain power. I may save a few, but what of the many?”

“This is only a first step, Fen’Harel. We must dance their dance, changing the steps little by little until they are dancing to ours,” she told him. “We cannot change everything within a single day.”

Solas frowned, “That should not stop us from trying.”

“Perhaps.”

It wasn’t long before Andruil approached the pair, wearing flashy, golden armor. A quiver of her deadly arrows hung from the saddle at her side while her elegant, magical bow was held within one hand.

“So the Dread Wolf attends a hunt. To think I would be so honored,” she flashed him a toothy, cunning smile that let him know that she had expected as much. He despised playing into her hands, but he was left with little choice given the alternative.

“You mentioned rules?” he asked, returning her smile with ease. If he had to play her game, he would do so to the best of his ability.

“Ah yes! Given your love for shifting into a dread wolf, I have decided to give you a choice. Either you can run into the hunt as a wolf and carry as many slaves from the forest as you can to this very spot in one go, or you can run in as you are and return to the forest several times,” she explained, cocking her head to the side and waiting for his response. There was no need to consider her offer long, as he could easily use magic to quicken his stride in this form.

“I shall stay as I am, you have my word.”

“Very good!” she giggled, almost madly with glee. It did not matter to him that the nobility would see his struggle in saving those that both he and Mythal loved and longed to save from their fates. He could care less of their opinion of him.

“I trust our friend here shall not be hunted?” Mythal interrupted, her calm, collected gaze piercing into Andruil’s. The laughing stopped, and Solas silently thanked his friend for asking what he had intended.

“No, I will not hunt your beloved Dread Wolf. I am no fool,” came her reply, though her face seemed to betray the disappointment at having to admit it.

The excitement in the crowd seemed to grow as the nobility took notice of the huntress upon her golden halla. Their voices rose in a gradual crescendo until she blew upon her horn.

Solas and Mythal watched as slaves lead halla harnessed to three aravels, their rears facing the dense forest that would provide adequate shelter for those clever enough to use it. As the slaves positioned themselves at the doors to the aravels, the other gods and a few nobility mounted upon their halla, brandishing their own bows and spears. Among them was Falon’Din, his long, silvery blond hair pulled in a braid down his back. He bore no weapon and from the blank stare upon his elegant face, he took no pleasure in the act itself though he participated. Next to him was his twin brother, Dirthamen, whose silvery hair was loose and flowing in the wind. Another god-like being that took no great pleasure in the hunt, but did so to keep up appearances as he did not openly support Fen’Harel’s rebellion.

Andruil sounded her horn again, the blast echoing through the wood as the slaves took their cue and opened the doors that held their quarry. Slaves, blinded by the sudden light of day, stumbled desperately over each other as they sought the shelter and false safety of the forest. Solas pitied them, watching as they disappeared into the thick of the brush. He did his best to remain still and unfazed as his eyes recognized every one of his agents, and some of Mythal’s as well. It had become clear to him that his infiltration had been discovered, and this hunt was to force him to choose which of those lives meant the most to him.

Beside him, he could feel Mythal stiffen as she recognized some of her own beloved agents disappear into the shadows, running for their very lives. Neither of them said a word or exchanged glances, but she did squeeze his hand in reassurance. Not all would be lost this day, not if he could help it.

A few minutes more, Andruil blew her horn again, and the hunt was on. Gods and nobles spurred their halla on, crashing into the forest as waves upon a shore, breaking branches and trampling over the bodies of those unfortunate enough to think they would be safe hiding just within the treeline. Solas bounded forward, stretching his legs and following suit, seeing if any of those landed upon survived. He aided those he could, carrying them quickly to where Mythal waited, and then disappeared back into the thick of things.

All around him he could hear the desperate pleas and dying cries of the slaves that met their end. This only encouraged him to run faster and search harder for those he could yet save. He wasn’t entirely fruitless in this task. The few agents he did find recognized him and followed him to safety once he explained his part in this hunt. Others died in his arms or just within his sights as Andruil never missed her targets.

He knew not how many slaves were being hunted, only that four of them were safe due to his efforts. Many more were dead, their bodies heaped upon Falon’Din’s travois pulled by his halla. The two of them exchanged several forlorn glances, for though Falon’Din took pride in guiding the dead to the Beyond, this was a pointless waste of precious life. As the body count grew, Fen’Harel became all too aware that the hunt was drawing to a close.

He was walking back towards the start, his ears and eyes alert to any movement that might signal that there was a survivor, when he heard the sounds of someone running towards him. Solas turned just in time to see the bright red hair of Emmaera rushing in his direction, looking back as though she were being followed. She tripped over a branch, but never landed in the dirt as her lover caught her and brought her to his chest in a quick embrace.

Her green eyes were wide with fright and relief and tears, her face covered in dirt and cuts. She was panting from exertion, her chest heaving as she sought to speak. “S-Solas?”

Solas averted his eyes from her, scouring the thick of trees behind her for any sign of the hunters he knew were nearby. He was hyper-alert now, his hand grabbing at hers and pulling her along behind him before she was able to catch her breath. “Keep running!” he urged her, sprinting through the trees as quickly as she was able, perhaps even quicker in his desperate attempt to get her to safety. Emmaera didn’t answer him, couldn’t as she struggled to keep with his pace. Nothing else mattered to the Dread Wolf as the treeline came into sight. His heart pounded within his chest, spurring him to run a little faster, push her just a little harder though he could feel her strength faltering. Still, he never loved her more than he did in this moment, fighting fatigue and fear and continuing on towards her freedom.

Suddenly there was an emptiness in his hand as hers fell away. Solas dug his heels into the ground, prepared to turn and carry her if he had to when his eyes met with hers. Fractured green gems stared at him in disbelief, her lips parted in silent surprise. Understanding was lost upon the elvhen as he reached for her hand, only to pause as a slow trickle of red stained her pale lips. His mouth dropped as his eyes caught sight of the golden arrow lodged firmly in her neck, its point covered in her blood. Time seemed to slow as she sank to the ground, just far enough from his reach that this time he couldn’t catch her before she hit the ground.

Behind her, Andruil sat upon her golden halla looking the very picture of a regal huntress. Her gaze caught Solas’ and a wickedly cruel smile spread across her fair features. She laughed then, the victorious sound reverberating through the trees and seeming to wake the Dread Wolf from this spell. He cast his eyes upon Emmaera now, ignoring the malicious woman who was currently approaching where he now stood, working his magic in an attempt to right this terrible wrong.

“So close, Dread Wolf. A pity your little fox wasn’t fast _enough_ ,” she said, a moment of pity hanging on the edge of her harsh words.

Solas said nothing as he sank to his knees beside Emmaera, holding her hand as she struggled to hold onto life. Andruil used her spear to lift his head to face her, its point cutting into his brow as she examined him with a mocking smile. She relished in her win, taking pride in fooling the Dread Wolf, or at least persuading him into her trap. He wanted to curse her, lash out like the feral beast that was clawing within his chest, but he wouldn’t, not now. She allowed him his head to fall before urging her mount forward, leaving the two of them behind without a backwards glance.

He cradled his love’s head in his lap, weaving spells to ease her pain and suffering knowing that there was naught his magic could do against the magical weapons used by Andruil. Despite her life growing shorter, Emmaera reached up to cup his face with her hand in an attempt to comfort him. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to speak, dark rivets of blood pouring from her lips now, choking her in the effort. Solas hushed her, his thumb caressing her cheek while he willed all of his power to clear her airways.

Hot tears stung at his eyes as he kissed her brow, stroking the cursed vallaslin that she bore one last time. She did not deserve to die this way. “ _Ane mala vasreëm, ma’ vhen’an._ You are free,” he whispered the words tangled with magic, erasing the symbol of slavery she had fought against from the moment he had first asked it of her. She closed her eyes as the tendrils of his familiar power caressed her skin, easing her pain and lifting the blood writing from her face to grant her precious freedom from the life she had always known.

“ _Suel tael tasalal, ‘ma’sal’shiral,_ ” her words were broken and barely audible as she used the last of her strength to bid him farewell. Once vibrant green eyes soon fell dark and lifeless and her hand that had been pressed to his cheek fell to her side, streaking his face with her blood, as her spirit finally left her.

His hands shook with rage and emotion as he clutched her lifeless body to his chest in anguish. He wanted to cry out, howl in his pain as the red veil of vengeance fell over him. He wanted to hunt, to kill, to _burn_ everything that Andruil had ever loved or held dear, just as she had done to him. He stood, ready to do just that when a hand appeared at his shoulder.

“Be still, Fen’Harel. Do not do that which you may come to regret,” came the wise words of his dearest friend from beside him. Behind her, standing solemnly while looking down at Emmaera was Falon’Din. His light blue eyes caught Solas’ for a brief moment, understanding passing between them.

“She would not want this, my friend,” the god of death spoke slowly and clearly, with surety that Solas wished he would have lacked. He clenched his jaw, his eyes falling upon his love now lost, hating himself for admitting that he was right.

“I wish to seek justice for what has been done this day,” he said, turning his anger towards Mythal.

She stood firm, her steady gaze holding him as she spoke, “Justice against Andruil? Who was in her right to do as she wished to a slave sold to her care? I feel your pain, Fen’Harel. My heart aches for your loss, but there is naught I can do.”

“She must pay!” He roared, his grief overwhelming him before sinking to his knees once again.

“Not today, my friend. Emmaera would not wish you to throw away all that you have worked for in an act of vengeance in her name,” Mythal comforted him, her hand at his back as Falon’Din silently prepared the body.

“And if I find it all pointless now?” he asked, peering at her with stormy eyes.

She smiled at him, cupping his cheek with her hand. “Fate, my friend, is a fickle thing. To give up now would be a waste of her sacrifice. Come now, we must allow Falon’Din to guide those we lost on their journey and we must prepare for our next step.”

Solas cast one last, saddened glance to the woman he had come to love. Mythal had been right, he couldn’t give up his fight now, not when so many others were fighting just as Emmaera had. He returned to her side, his fingers searching around the collar of her shirt until he found the string of the necklace he had bestowed upon her the night they had first professed their love to one another. He placed one more gentle kiss to her brow as he pulled the wolf jaw pendant over her head and then placed it around his own neck.

He would not stop now. Solas would save the People no matter the cost. So long as Mythal were there to reason with him and urge him on in this endeavor, he would fight. For the People. For Emmaera.

**Author's Note:**

> ELVHEN TRANSLATION!!! (Thanks to Project Elvhen ^^)
> 
> Ma' vhen'an - my heart  
> Dar'eth Shiral - safe journey  
> Ma' lath - my love  
> Arasha - my happiness  
> An'daran Atish'an - Greetings, Welcome  
> Mar enaste lan em lath'in'iseth - Your grace warms my heart  
> Ane mala vasreëm - You are free  
> Suel tael tasalal, ‘ma’sal’shiral - Until we meet again, love of my life
> 
> (most likely won't be using much of this in the future save for flashbacks)


End file.
